


the old mariner

by Xamem



Series: Stardeween [3]
Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Ghost Stories, How Do I Tag, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-04 22:51:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21205388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xamem/pseuds/Xamem
Summary: Leah and Elliott are sitting around on Spirit's Eve when they decide to tell ghost stories. They're old legends... Right? Stardeween Day 3: Ghost Stories!





	the old mariner

Elliott and Leah crouched near the fireplace, bellies full of pumpkin ale that continued to flow, though the Spirit’s Eve festival had long ended. It was raining, and Elliott’s cabin on the beach had been the closest source of shelter. Despite the warmth of the flames, they were still ringing out their clothes, and the whole cabin smelled vaguely of mildew.

“Guess I’m stating the night,” Leah muttered, glancing at the window overlooking the beach. It lit up as lightning cracked somewhere nearby. “It’s been awhile.” The two of them thought back to their early days in the Valley – they’d both arrived around the same time, strange gingers with broken hearts occupying the abandoned cabins of the small town. They’d found solace in each other’s art, often staying up through the moonlit hours, when inspiration had been most likely to strike. It had gotten her over a broken heart, and Elliott the grief of separating from his family.

Elliott leaned forward almost conspiratorially, the light from the fire casting shadows in the furrows of his face. His grin could only be described as wicked.

“Leah, did you ever hear the legend of the Old Mariner?” His words were slightly slurred, and Leah rolled her eyes.

“We’re not doing ghost stories. You know you write terrible mysteries.”

Elliott brushed off the insult, taking another sip of whatever was in his mug at this point – Leah had stopped keeping track of the drinks. “But I didn’t write this one, my dear. It’s _true._” He leaned back, casting his face in complete darkness. From the very beginning, he’d felt the need to supplement his storytelling with extra theatrics.

“This was always Willy’s favorite tale to tell. Long ago, before the war, before us, Pelican Town was a small fishing harbor. A great place to cast a line, and an even better place to rest your head. Apparently a good inn is a tradition here.”

He slowly rocked the chair, and while the creak of the floorboards and drum of the rain would normally put her to sleep, Leah found she was paying rapt attention. “The Old Mariner wasn’t a rich man, but he was a happy one. He’d go to the sea, make his catch, sell it for a modest amount. A crew of one, just a man and the expanse of the ocean.”

“But then,” Elliott sighed – wistfully, Leach noticed – “he fell in love. A local girl, a tender of the inn like our dear Emily.” Elliott stood, pacing the small length of his cabin. “He loved her, and she him. Never a sweeter couple walked this beach. It’s said he built this cabin with his own two hands, so he’d never be far from his two loves.”

He paused here for so long that Leah thought that he’d forgotten the rest of the story. “And?” she prompted. “I have to say, so far this isn’t a very scary story.”

“It isn’t going to be.” Elliott returned to his rocker. “The Mariner wanted to give her a proper proposal. The legend then was that if you could prove your love to a mermaid, she’d give you a special pendant.”

“Oh, that’s where the mermaid pendants come from?” Leah asked. She had seen renditions at craft festivals, and knew they were part of traditional proposals, but she’d somehow never heard the story behind them.

Elliott nodded. “He sailed on a clear day, determined to get that pendant for his lover. Little did he know a storm was coming, sudden and violent. The sky turned black and the sea churned. He never returned.” A pause again for emphasis. “It’s said his ghost haunts this beach still, waiting for someone he can pass the pendant onto so he can finally join his lover in the beyond.”

Leah wiped away the tears she felt coming despite herself. “And have you ever seen him?” she whispered, voice husky. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. She never cried during sad movies, and she didn’t even believe in ghosts. And yet.

“No. It’s just a story, after all.”

“Just a story. Right.” Leah reached up her to touch her necklace – not a mermaid’s pendant, but the only remnant of her old life she still held on to. Her fingers were met with bare collarbone. “Elliott, my necklace!”

He had already grabbed their coats before she’d finished the sentence, still damp from their first rush to shelter. “It probably fell on the beach. I’ll check town, just in case. It can’t be far.” They split up to search, the wind howling all the worse.

Leah was about to give up, having sifted through what felt like every grain of sand on that beach, when she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder.

“Elli-” she stopped short when she realized who was actually in front of her. The man was short, with leathery skin, tattered clothes, and a full beard that she swore had hints of seaweed in it. He smiled warmly at her, and the onslaught of rain made him appear as if he was blinking in and out of existence. He reached for Leah’s shaking hands. She felt something drop in them, small and cold, but she couldn’t look away from the old man’s eyes.

“Lass,” he said, accent thick and unfamiliar, “I can feel that your heart has suffered a deep wound. It’s okay for you to move on, to move past it. I hope that when you’re ready, this token will prove useful to you.”

Leah was spared a response to this cryptic message by Elliott calling to her from the beach, necklace in hand. She waved to acknowledge him and turned back to thank the man for his gift, only to find him gone. There weren’t even footprints where he’d been standing.

She glanced at the vibrant shell necklace he’d left behind, so much more beautiful than she could’ve imagined. It shone with shades of blue she imagined were only found in the deepest reaches of the ocean. She fastened the clasp, tucking the charm beneath her blouse.

“Thank you,” she whispered, hoping the Old Mariner heard her. She rejoined Elliott in his cabin. No other ghosts visited that night. She felt, for the first time in a good while, truly clean.

**Author's Note:**

> i love the legend of the old mariner. one of my fav bits of stardew valley lore. there's something so sad but hopeful about him. idk anyways hope you enjoyed reading!!! <3


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